Theft
by Sierra Janeway
Summary: Molly forgot her coat and it's cold outside. He shouldn't miss his for just a few minutes, right?


_Disclaimer: All original characters and such belong to the BBC._

**Summary: **Molly forgot her coat and it's cold outside. He shouldn't miss his for just a few minutes, right?

**Chronology: **Sometime pre-Reichenbach

**Pairings: **None

**Rating: **K+ for over-cautiousness

**Author's Note:** A plot bunny that attacked me while I was wearing my Molly Shirt and my Sherlock Coat. You're welcome, Jim.

Also this was supposed to be a one shot, but I feel like it might need another chapter or two. It didn't do what I thought it would do.

* * *

**Theft**

It was nearly noon and Molly Hooper was starving. She'd been at work since five o'clock that morning when Sherlock had decided that he absolutely could not wait three hours to find out if the hair of a particular hybrid cross of Middle Eastern goat could chemically cause allergic reactions in certain reptiles. She'd spent the whole morning dashing around the lab at his whim, gathering samples and literature and running tests and double checking calculations before the consulting detective decided that he was satisfied with the results and retreated to the computer lab to analyze all the data. Molly was left standing exhausted and almost stunned, alone and hungry in the laboratory.

Molly took her purse from the hook by the door, checking her wallet to make sure she had money. She could get something from the hospital's cafeteria, but after the morning she'd had she wanted something decent. Maybe something Italian from the little shop a few blocks away. Breadsticks sounded heavenly, she thought as she approached the front doors. And maybe a salad…

But she came to a screeching halt when she looked out past the glass panels set in the doors. The sky, which this morning had been a deep blue-purple leaning on black but had no hint of foul weather, was now a deep charcoal gray. The trees outside bent and waved sharply in the heavy wind. She couldn't be certain, but she thought she heard a small grumble of thunder. At the same time, she realized that she did not have her coat. Her coat was far away. Namely, at her house. Across the city. She sighed, and pulled at her sleeves. Her short sleeves. Her lab coat wasn't exactly meant for warmth, and it wasn't exactly supposed to leave the hospital.

With a sigh, she turned back. Maybe she'd forgotten a sweater in the cloak room, or a jacket, or something she could huddle into long enough to run to get food. She opened the doors without much hope and wasn't surprised to find nothing of hers hanging up. Other than this morning apparently, she was incredibly responsible with her belongings. As she went to shut the doors, something caught her eye. Something large and black and warm.

Sherlock's coat was hanging on the end of one of the racks.

Molly tried to banish the thought as soon as it occurred, but the big coat beckoned to her. Warm and dry. Wool. And so sharply cut. She thought of how the collar turned up and made the detective look so cool and mysterious. She bit her lip. She thought of Sherlock hunched over a computer in the lab, going through stacks of data and internet databases and the mugs of coffee she'd brought him.

Ten minutes. He shouldn't miss it for ten minutes, right?

When Molly stepped out of the hospital and onto the sidewalk, she trembled a little, but not from the cold. The wool encased her like a cocoon, her small size making the lanky detective's coat more like a thick furry blanket. The fact the she, Molly Hooper, was wearing Sherlock's coat, was what made her tremble. Part excitement and part fear, she nestled shyly into the cozy wool and nodded with far more confidence than usual at the passers-by. She noted the Italian shop up ahead, and that the walk had seemed to go far more quickly than usual.

Inside the shop, she placed her order with a smile at the cute boy behind the counter, the one she'd never been able to make eye contact with before. He reminded her a little of Jim, but even nicer and not so…well, she liked him even better than Jim.

She nearly dropped her wallet when he spoke to her.

"Nice coat."

Molly started. "I…what?"

"Nice coat," he said again with a smile.

"Oh," she laughed nervously. "Thank you."

"You work around here? I noticed you come here a lot."

Molly noticed that his nametag said Matthew. She tried not to blush. "I ah, I work at the hospital."

"You're a doctor?"

His smile was affecting her ability to stand. "No, no. I um…" Here she stopped. Her profession wasn't exactly great small talk material, especially not with a potential date. But she couldn't think of what to say, and she didn't want to lie. "I'm um…in pathology."

"Oh that's really cool. Not a lot of people can handle that." He sounded genuinely impressed.

Molly was barely able to take her change when he handed it to her. "You really think so?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Absolutely." He smiled again. "I'd love to work in the sciences. But I never had the grades for it. Business school for me. Numbers make more sense to this brain." He handed her a takeaway bag with her order and gave her one last devastating smile. "Have a wonderful day."

"You too," she said, managing something above a whisper. She smiled in return and slowly and carefully made her way to the door, managing not to melt.

Back on the street, the cool hair hit her warm cheeks and she felt like she could rule the world. She felt tall enough to fill Sherlock's coat, and she nearly skipped back down the sidewalk to St. Bart's. On a whim, she flipped up the collar of the coat.

It felt right.


End file.
